Purple Rain
by the Scary Godmother
Summary: NOW WITH CHAPTER 6! AT LAST! Space Opera. Love, death, guns....no sex but i'm working on that. Action/Drama/Violence/Comedy . Episodic, differs from series events.
1. Chapter 1: Wild Horses

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"Purple Rain"

A Not-Quite-Bedtime-Story by the Scary Godmother

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**Disclaimers and Anti-Flames:**

-Dont own it. Not that clever.

-My friend Michael told me Purple Rain would be a good fic title. I'm not that clever about that either. 

-Dont nitpick techincal errors please. Just try and enjoy the story.

-Elka's back! If you want to know more about her; read my other story "Stormy Weather."

  
  


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Cpt. One- WILD HORSES (in which someone finally mistakes Faye for a hooker and Session 25 is mocked).

On Venus; the rain is purple. A kind of hazy lavender. Even for all the markings of humanity on the planet; that rain reminded everyone how alien the world was. This was a planet that would never be exactly hospitable, never be anyone's idea of home no matter how long they lived there, never be tamed or over-run by the masses. No, Venus was like a wild horse that was too old and too set in it's ways to ever be broken, or even ever to be owned.

Of course, the nature of humanity is to try and tame or own everything it finds. How else would we feel so bloody superior as a race at large? Even my wild Venus was no exception to this destroy-or-commercialize creed. The air on the planet wasn't even breathable but people had moved in, building glass domes rising out of the earth like blind eyes across the face of the planet and letting that beautiful purple rain beat against them while inside, people gambled. That's right; gambled. Someone had the brilliant idea to take this fierce and passionate planet and turn it into a big purple orbiting casino. That's people for you.

Not that anyone was complaining at the moment; least of all Faye. She was gambling with a wad of cash and more than that, Jet and Spike had asked her to do it. She shifted uncomfortably in her spikey fuck-me heels and remembered the conversation that had taken place less than 5 hours ago on the Bebop.

.. 

She and Jet had been watching Big Shots. Spike and Ed had been engaged in a staring contest. Actually; Spike had been staring daggers at Ed and Ed had been making silly faces and sticking her head through her legs. Either way. They had been about to give up on finding any good leads when a story had run about a high-roller people called Double Seven. Currently priced at 7,500,000 woolong; Double Seven was wanted for a trail of bad debts and owed money, a trail that led straight to the Fortunate Son Casino on Venus.

No one had been able to find him since he was last spotted on Venus, but no one could confirm he ever left either. More likely, he still had a powerful friend or two on the planet and was hiding out until he could pay off the even more powerful enemy or two. But Spike was a little too well known to just waltz in and ask to see Mr. Seven and Jet perferred to stay on the Bebop and wait until everyone needed their lives saved. So, They decided the best way to catch Double Seven and make sure no one bounty skimmed them would be a trap. A nice quiet irresistable trap by the name of Alice; a beautiful gambler with money to spare for the right guy. Playing the part of Alice was Faye. Playing the part of her money was everything left over from their last bounty.

"That's our money for food!" someone had yelled.

"It's the only way." Jet had told them all. "Besides think of all the beef we can buy once we catch this guy."

Spike snorted. More likely, think of all the substitution meat and noodley-something or other they could buy. The thought of real beef was too good to ever be true. But there was nothing else really to do, and if Faye lost all the money he could just shoot her.

So Spike had gone along. And Faye had gone along. It was kind of Jet's plan in the first place and Ed was too preoccupied learning how to lick herself like Ein did to really care what was going on.That was pretty much how she wound up here, ordering her third J&B with a pile of casino chips in front of her and not a bounty in sight. She sighed and tried to look more bait-y.

About twenty minutes later; a svelte figure took the seat next to her. Looking over she saw a short woman with a pile of chestnut curls twisted on top of her head and chipped black nail polish. Maybe she was a working girl... in any case, Faye didn't need the competition.

"This seat's taken." Faye said; sipping her fresh drink.

"It doesnt look taken."

"Well, it is."

"For a hooker; you're not too friendly."

Faye sprayed the bar with her drink as she spit out her latest sip. Hooker? Coming from a woman dressed like that? Being called a hooker by a hooker, that wasn't just insulting...it was very insulting! "Excuse me?" she said, remembering she was supposed to be a lonely casino girl and they didn't usually violently assault people in bars.

"I said" the woman told her; toying with Faye's chips. "That for a hooker; you're not too friendly."

Faye slapped the woman's hands off her money. She should just get up and walk out. That was what 'Alice' would do after all. But not Faye Valentine and dammit where did this chick get off? "If you're that desperate for a date try the men's room." she said coldly, turning her head to face away from the new arrival. "But get lost; you're killing my action."

"I didn't mean to offend you." the stranger said huffily.

"You've got a funny way of showing it; telling me I look like a whore."

"I didn't say you looked like a whore; I just figured you were one."

Faye spun back around in her seat. "And why the hell is that?" she demanded.

The woman shrugged. "The only type of girls Spike bothers with is hookers and Julia....and you don't look like Julia."

She played it cool. "I dont know anyone named Spike. You must have me confused with someone else."

The woman stood up. "Fine. Have it your way. But when you see this Spike you dont know; tell him thanks for the loan."

The stranger was gone as quickly as she had come and Faye couldn't be happier. But she was confused. How did she know about Spike? And had he ever said anything about someone named Julia?...wait, of course not, Spike never said anything about anything. It looked like it was back to the Bebop for her. She needed some answers and a new cover. Double Seven wouldnt exactly go for Alice if it was common knowledge she hung around with bounty hunters.

Faye grabbed her mini-purse and got up; planning to leave some of her winnings to cover the drinks. She reached for the chips and.........wait a minute... Where were her chips???

!--EndFreetext--


	2. Chapter 2: Play that Funky Music, Cowboy

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"Purple Rain"

A Not-Quite-Bedtime-Story by The Scary Godmother

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Chapter Two- Play that Funky Music, Cowboy (in which very little about Spike's past is revealed and yet another person insinuates that Faye looks like a hooker).

"The money is where?"

Faye snarled. Everyone seemed to be under the impression that she had blown their money. It wasn't like she had asked to go down there and play Mistress of the Poker Table or anything. "I'm telling you for the last time, someone took it."

Faye would have shot the next person to accuse her of something fishy dead between the eyes, but Ed choose that moment to wander into the room, goose-stepping with Ein trotting behind her. Her eyes lit up when she saw Faye had returned.

"Faye-Faye is back! Food now???"Ed began hopping up and down excitedly, her tank top floating over her head.

"No food yet Ed." Jet said reservedly. 

Ed all but deflated, coming down with a thud on the ground. Her mouth hung open like her jaw had a broken hinge. "No food?" she asked in a small voice. 

"No food."

Ed turned on her heel and stalked off dejectedly, babbling in what sounded like Romanian. Ein took a look at Faye, sniffed his nose up into the air, and followed suit. That dog really is smarter than the average human.

Jet sighed. The thought that he was too old for this shit occurred to him at least once a day lately. "Do you at least know who took the money?" he asked Faye in what he hoped was a tone that would get a simple answer.

"Ask him. The girl seemed to be really friendly with someone named Spike." she answered, glaring in his fuzzy-haired direction.

It was now Jet's turn to look a little surprised. Spike's 'friends' were few and far between, and they usually didn't announce the fact to strangers. They were also never female as a rule. Spike spoke up before he could, of course sounding perfectly calm and laid back. 

"Did she happen to leave a name?" he said, stubbing out his old cigarette and pulling a new one out.

"No," Faye answered in a voice that would have made the fuel ice over, "she was a little busy telling me I looked like a street walker."

Spike smiled a little. "Well, that does sound like something my friends would say."

Faye leapt out of her seat and towered over Spike, suddenly enraged. "I'm glad you think this is so funny you porcupine-headed prick! I was down there trying to win us a bounty and your friend botched the whole deal. She took all our money! We cant even buy the food we were going to! But all that's ok as long as you can sit there and smoke and laugh about it!" He wasn't even looking at her...he was just blowing smoke rings and gazing blankly, like she wasn't there at all. " Are you even going to look at me?!?"

Spike raised his eyes, which at the moment looked cold and dead and still, like a snake about to strike. "Ok, I'm looking at you." he said in a flat voice. 

The room was quiet for a few minutes as Spike stared deadly at Faye and Faye glared back, trying to look just as tough and cool and not quite making it happen, due mostly to the fact she was still red-faced and huffing from giving Spike a peace of her mind. Jet watched curiously for a little while, wondering how long it would take Faye to realize she had done a really, really stupid thing. Then he remember that Faye never realized that, and for that matter neither did Spike, so he stepped towards them and coughed commandingly.

Two heads turned towards him as they remembered that he was in the room. Nice of them to do that. It wasn't like he was the oldest and most experienced space cowboy on board or that it was his ship or anything. "D'you know who took our money?" he asked Spike.

"I have an idea."

"How about you go back to Venus with Faye and find out for sure."

Faye and Spike both balked. For the next ten minutes there was nothing but the echoes of yelling on the hull. Jet got sick of waiting for them to run out of air and finally turned and left, headed for the kitchen to once again confirm that the fridge was empty.

"Fine," he muttered on his way out, "You two do whatever you want, but get our money back."

Spike and Faye made a mad dash for the hanger, each determined to head out first. The problem was, Spike would have been faster than Faye if he had one leg and a club foot. Faye very nearly beat him by the sheer force of her anger, but she only managed to get close enough to grab his arm. Not necessarily a smart thing, but it slowed him down.

"Just let me handle this." Faye said.

"You already handled it." he told her, not stopping but dropping out of warp speed and walking.

"So did your friend."

He turned on her. "Yes, it was my friend. I like her about as much as I like you, but she is my friend and my problem. I take care of my problems by myself."

"You're not going down there alone! What about Double Seven?"

"Forget about Double Seven. Venus isn't any of your business anymore. If you follow me down there, I'll hurt you Faye."

He was leaving her behind. She didn't try and catch him again. Faye stopped and stamped her foot. It was childish as hell but she couldn't think of anything better to do. It was like talking to a fucking brick wall. "This isn't fair!" she yelled as he walked away from her.

"Nobody said it was." he answered, not caring if she heard.

It didn't take him long to find her. He knew exactly who to look for. He didn't know many women who'd have the balls to walk up to someone, call her a whore, take their money and leave a calling card. He knew a lot of people who'd carry off the first three but only one woman who wouldn't leave it anonymous. Elka. A low-grade hustler and petty thief. She was no good, that was why they had gotten along so well. He and Elka used to get drunk together, and argue, and still be friends about it all at last call....back before he met Julia. When he had taken up with her, Elka had known, and every inch she told him that he was damning himself. She'd been right about that too. When he left the syndicate and Mars, she had asked him not to look back, ever, not even to have a drink for old times sake, because it would only get him killed. They'd parted on sad, good, and very final terms.

Which is why it made no sense for this to be happening, unless she had really needed the money, or unless she was really in trouble. Frankly, he didn't care either way, it was his money and friend or no, he planned on getting it back. But if she was in trouble.... maybe he could arrange some reasonably priced help. If she just needed somebody dead, hell, he might even do that for free.

He found her in the bar, hidden in the corner booth nursing a vodka tonic. She barely even looked up when he sat down, she didn't need to.

"Hello Simon." she said softly.

"My mother calls me Simon.

"I know."

"I cant say that I'm happy to see you El."

"Thanks."

"You're the one who said I could never look back, which makes me very curious to know why you're making me."

"I'm sorry..."

He snorted, lighting up another cigarette, his last. He had no use for apologies and Elka never meant them. "Why are you here?" he repeated, not sounding so friendly.

"I wanted to be the one to tell you." 

He waited. "Tell me what?" he asked after too long a silence.

She looked up. She looked afraid. Not just afraid either, she looked afraid of him. "Julia's dead."

He hadn't heard that. He didn't care if he had. It wasn't his problem anymore. He didn't care. No, not his problem. That was the concern of a dead man. Not him, he didn't care about Julia, about life, about anything anymore, he didn't.... He wouldn't care, either way. It had taken him years to kill whatever she hadn't in him that made him care. Dead men cry no tears. He didn't care...he didn't care...but he hadn't heard her right, it couldn't be, it must be a mistake. Julia wasn't dead. She couldn't be, she just couldn't be. "What?" he said in a short voice that betrayed none of his emotion.

"She's dead. I'm so sorry, but I had to be the one to tell you."

"...Why?" he asked, feeling strangely like his heart was slowly sinking down to the pit of his stomach....strange, because he didn't like to think he had a heart.

"Because I'm the one who killed her."


	3. Chapter 3: Dont know why you say Goodbye...

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"Purple Rain"

A Not-Quite-Bedtime Story by The Scary Godmother

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~I'd really like to say thank you for all the positive feedback everyone has left. it really makes continuing the story easier and definitely more fun. keep it coming!

~Another thanks to Michael, who is my Spike-sounding board (Mikey, do you think Spike would do this....or this...or this?...._ Really, he'd do that? Thanks!). _

~I have discovered my spell/grammar check really doesn't like it the parts where Ed is speaking. 

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Chapter Three: Don't know why you say Goodbye, I say Hello (in which I finally make reference to the Beatles and Jet gets some much needed attention in this story.)

Back aboard the Bebop, relations between males and the fairer sex weren't going any easier. The primary reason for this, Jet decided, was that he was outnumbered without Spike here. At the moment though, he wasn't sure Spike being around would help, because he didn't seem to be acting any more level-headed than Faye...flying down there alone and strong-arming Faye like he had a secret identity to protect. Jet had woks smarter than that. 

Spike had also turned his communicator off. Jet had tried to get through 5 times before he realized the problem wasn't Venus's distorting atmosphere. Then he had put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples for about twenty minutes. Sometimes, he felt too much like a parent. When he had met Spike, he was impressed by the way he carried himself, kept himself under control, didn't let anything shake him. When Jet was that young, he'd been too naive about the way the world and people worked. He would have never been able to just...shake it off, not like he could now. Where it took him years to learn how to keep it all in, Spike seemed to have picked it up instantly. 

But that didn't impress him anymore. 

Jet was an old man. Not too old in numbers but in his mind, he was ancient. He had lived too, too long like Spike did, not feeling anything, and now he was too old to change. But he regretted it. Seeing Alisa should have hurt him more than walking on broken glass, but it only scratched his surface. He had been hurt, he had acted reasonably, he had learned something from it. There was nothing wrong with that, nothing at all, but sometimes he would have given his other arm to be able to hurt deep to his core again. To feel the pain of something so bad you wanted to die. It was too hard to live like this, and the price was too high in the end. Never letting anything touch you made you too old too quick. 

He wanted to teach Spike that, somehow. He couldn't depend on him to learn it on his own, and the way Spike was heading, he would die before time could make him see. Spike wanted to die, Faye wanted to belong and they both thought the best way to do that was to act like unruly teenagers. Jet wasnt their father but again and again they played him like he was. They were running so quickly to get somewhere that they would never slow down long enough to wonder why they wanted to get there so bad. Kids these days.....

"I'm going back down to Venus."

He raised his head. Faye was in the doorway. He wondered how long she had been there. "Spike can take care of things." he said wearily, especially since he is already down there and didn't wish to be followed. 

"Aren't you even a little curious?"

He sighed. It wasn't like he could stop her anyway. No, cook for me, give me a home, lick my wounds if I need it, but don't ever try and tell me what to do. "No. If Spike wanted us to know, he would have told us."

"Spike never tells us anything." she said bitterly.

"Maybe there's a reason for that." he replied. 

Faye scowled at him. "What's up your ass?" she asked, hands on her hips. 

"I'm tired." he said honestly. 

Faye continued scowling at him for a few minutes, as if she were trying to read more into that than was there and figure out how it insulted her. He hadn't told her she looked like a hooker, so it was harder for her to figure out this one. Finally, she just gave up. 

"Well, I'm still going."

-----

Spike sat motionless, lungs and chest not even expanding or contracting with breath. Elka was just as still across the table, wanting with every fiber to run but somehow not being able to move. There was something stronger in her that wanted to get this over with. Point of No Return, Damned if you Do, that kind of thing. There was just a wall of silent tension between them as her words hung in the air. This seemed to go on forever, as if maybe time had stopped to let the knife twist a little longer. 

"You killed her?" he repeated. 

"I killed her."

"You _killed_ her?"

"Yes."

"You killed Julia?" he asked, very slowly.

"I think we established that." 

He blinked, once, then twice, and then looked at her evenly as if he wasn't contemplating her slow and brutal death and she hadn't just all but invited him to carry those contemplations out. "This is not the time to be a smart ass."

She broke the stare, unnerved, turning her head to rest on her shoulder. She hadn't expected to be scared so easily. No with just a look and some words. "What is it the time for?"

Spike ignored her question and fired one of his own. "Why did you do it?"

"I can't tell you that."

He exhaled, slowly. "This is also not the time to be say no to me."

She nodded, barely moving, and that small exercise sent a tremble down her spine. He sounded deadly serious, a poor choice of words for her to be thinking at the moment. There was no reason for her to be surprised, right? The only thing she hadn't expected is to live this long. But, sitting there, she felt that trying to be noble had been a very very stupid thing, no matter how good it might've looked on paper. She should probably run, now, if she wanted to live. Spike was sliding over the blue-dyed leather seats, coming closer to her. Why didn't she move? Go? Before it was too late? 

Then he was there. In one movement so quick it was barely a movement, Spike was sitting next to her, large hands wrapped around her wrists so that escape wasn't even an option anymore. He was close, very close. To the bartender, the scattered gamblers enjoying a drink or drowning their troubles, those just wandering through, they probably appeared to be nothing more than a cozy couple. Nothing to even look twice at. 

"Elka," he said softly, mouth close to her ear, "You've got such tiny, pretty little fingers. Probably good for picking locks." He rubbed his thumb down the base of her hand, towards her index finger. It felt like a spider slowly making it's path to a good place to feed. "If you don't start telling me what is going on, I'm going to rip them off one by one until you do. I don't want to hurt you, yet, but I will. Do you understand me?"

She nodded. 

"Do you believe me?"

She nodded again. 

He let go of her, sliding one arm over the back of the booth and looking at her kindly, deceptively kindly. No one would ever know what was going on. Just two lovers. Nothing more. 

"Then talk." 

---

"Excuse me?"

The concierge looked up from his stack of notes, cell phone numbers, appointments, upcoming events in and around the Fortunate Son Casino & Hotel and requests. What was it now? Normally, if you saw a tired, over-worked and underpaid hotel employee half buried in paper work, would you be sauntered up to them and interrupting their only chance to sit down in 5 hours? No, of course you wouldn't, you're a decent person. But not these people, no, not these people. Every five blessed minutes it was get me tickets to this, get my wife tickets to that, get me some Jovian Lavender Wine, get me a limo, get me a hooker, find me a wife...and on...and on...and on...

A woman leaned over the desk of his far too small office, squeezing her breasts together with her fore-arms as she balanced herself. The pose in and of itself was very inviting. Her lips were wet and red, tiny but full, inviting, she wore an outfit that seemed to consist of suspenders and crumpled leather that covered very little and at the moment, the concierge wanted nothing better to make her and her cleavage entirely satisfied guests of his establishment. He smiled broadly and rose from his desk, sweeping his arm in front of him grandly. "Yes," he said, bowing to her, "how may I be of service to you Madame?"

"I lost my purse." she said sheepishly, making a how-can-I-be-so-cute-yet-so-absentminded face, "I think this woman I was sitting next grabbed it by accident. I really," she rolled her head to emphasize her point, squeezing that magnificent bosom ever tighter "really need to find her. Can you help?"

"Breast." he said, nodding eagerly. "I mean....I mean, Yes, yes, certainly. I am sure we can locate her. Do you know if she was a guest?"

"Actually," said the woman, leading the concierge into the lobby with the study boom-boom of her hips shifting left to right, left to right as she walked, "I met her in the bar....."

---

"Jet? Jet, are you there?" came a cranky somewhat rushed sounding voice over the comm.

Jet glanced over from his perch on the stairs where he was carefully trimming one of his large bonsai's, resting safe in it's pot two steps above. It was Faye. What had she done now? "What is it?" he asked, clipping a stray twig away. 

"I've got a name."

'Yeah, you're name's Faye' he almost told her. But he knew that wasn't what she meant. She just couldn't stay out of it. "Go ahead." he said with a clear note of defeat in his voice. 

"Our mystery girl is registered in room 517, as Eleanor Rigby. Get Ed to look her up and see what happens?"

"Ed's busy trying to find Double Seven. You remember him?"

"This is more important!"

He sighed. "I'll ask her..." a pause. He should try and say something a little more discouraging. "Since you're so good at finding people down there, why don't you try finding our bounty?"

That did it. Like someone had flipped Faye's cosmic 'On' switch, her hands flew to her hips and her nose scrunched in anger. Here we go. "Like you're so busy up there. Unless you're going to cook one of those trees for dinner, you _could_ try doing a little work too!"

She gave a very unladylike gesture then with a blip her face disappeared from the screen. Women. He had better have something to tell her about mystery girl before she commed back, or God knows what gesture she had up her sleeve next. He was so put upon. 

"Ed?" Jet called out tentatively, hoping like hell she didn't appear wearing her pants on her head or walking on her hands again. 

"You called for Ed?" said a voice from he wasn't sure where. 

Jet set down his clippers and checked...she wasn't under the stairs. She hadn't come in the door. Almost afraid, he turned around reluctantly. Sure enough, Ed was suspended from the ceiling, swinging upside-down from the pipes about nine feet to his left. "I need you to find out about someone named Eleanor Rigby for me. She is a friend of Spike's."

Ed perked up, if that was possible while upside-down, and began to swing back and forth. "Ed already knows aaaallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll about her."

Now it was Jet's turn to perk up. "Why does Ed know all about her?" he asked. 

"Spike-Spike told Ed to look for man in bounty reports. Vicious-person, bad bad bad bad bad bad man! Ed do this for Spike-Spike. Eleanor Rigby is a fake name. Eleanor-person is Elka-person. Elka has a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig bounty on her from Vicious-person. So Ed already knows."

"Ed, why didn't you tell Spike?!"

Ed flipped herself forward and grabbed the pipes. Now she was dangling from her arms. That was an improvement at least. Jet had to wonder if those weird spots on her cheeks came from having her head upside-down too much. 

"Ed was waiting until dinner time." she responded merrily. 


	4. Chapter 4 & 1/2: Desperado

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"Purple Rain"

A Not-Quite-Bedtime Story by The Scary Godmother

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~I know the last part of chapter 4 was kind of short and more than a little rushed, I hope this makes up for it. We're really getting into things now, aren't we? The next chapter is going to be a lot longer, so it may take a few days. 

~Thanks to my fan-fic-fan FarStrider for giving me a great opening line for the chapter :~{)

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CHAPTER 4 & 1/2: Desperado (in which everything goes to hell.) 

When time caught back up with him again, Spike realized that shooting off a gun in an elevator maybe wasn't the smartest thing. The first shot grazed Elka's arm and collided with the wall, sparking off as it ricocheted and firmly embedded itself in Spike's shoulder. Keeping a firm grip on his gun, he grasped the wound. Shit, this was going to stain his suit. This was his favorite suit....this was his only suit!

The second shot landed in Elka's shoulder and stayed there. She mirrored Spike and squeezed the tissue, glaring at him with a combination of shock, anger, pain and, if he wasn't mistaken, vague amusement. "You feel better now?" she asked. 

"No. You?"

"A little." 

"You deserved that you know."

"I know."

Spike slid down the wall and sat across from Elka, who was still crouched down.

"We're out of cigarettes?" he questioned. 

"Yeah." she nodded. "Out."

There had never been a time in his life when he needed a cigarette so badly, and that was saying a whole hell of a lot. "Is that why you killed her, just because you didn't like her?"

"I'm not that stupid." Elka answered, wondering if he was going to let both of them sit there and bleed to death waiting for answers.

"Care to elaborate?" he prompted. 

"I don't want to get shot again, so No Thank You."

He was confused. "I'll shoot you again if you don't, not if you do."

She sighed, banging her head against the elevator wall in frustration. Did he realize how hard he made it for people to care about him, was that the point of being an arrogant, trigger-happy, thick-headed schmuck? So people wouldn't bother to care? "Maybe I did it for you."

He looked at her with eyes almost dead except for the barest hint of humour. "You killed the woman I love for me? Why not just send flowers?"

"I did it to protect you."

"From what?" he asked, "I don't need your protection from anything I can think of."

"To protect you from getting hurt, from finding out the truth and realizing how far off you were on this one. You need my protection from that. I fix your problems, I tell you when to run away, when to take it like a man and when to not even go in, I try to keep you alive and give you smart advice....or, at least, I used to. Some habits just won't die with time."

Spike glanced up. The elevator was taller than he had thought, there was an echo as she spoke and he hadn't just imagined it. He felt stupid, desperately stupid. Here he was pushing, begging, shooting the answers out of her and suddenly he didn't want them anymore. He felt this cold icy needle sinking down his throat and into his stomach and he did not want to here anymore. 

"Julia," she said with labored breathing, "belonged to Vicious. As soon as it was safe, as soon as he had enough power to be the only viable choice, she went trotting back to him like a little bitch puppy that had gotten lost on the way home. I don't know if she ever loved you, I don't know if what you thought you had was real, but as soon as you were gone, it was. You weren't there to keep her out of the line of fire anymore and Vicious was. She betrayed you. Either she didn't love you enough to make it on her own or she never loved you at all. Either way. She wasn't worth it." 

He raised his hand up as if he might strike her again, but instead he dropped his head down into his palm and rubbed his forehead. "I loved her."

"But she didn't love you...."

"Not enough to go with me, not enough to spend her life running. Who would want my life? You can't blame her."

"The hell I can't. She didn't even love you enough to keep out of Vicious' bed."

He shook his head. "She must not have had any other choice."

"Spike, don't you trust me?"

"No, not about this. I ...need to hear it all, I can take it. You had a better reason....If Julia had just gone back to him, you would have let me decide, right?" he asked, standing up. 

Elka turned her head, facing away from him. "You're right, that's not all. She was..... pregnant." she announced. 

He banged his head and fists into the wall. He should have seen that coming. He didn't need to ask her who the father was. He realized he'd left his gun on the elevator floor. Fuck it. If Elka wanted to shoot him right now he wouldn't have minded. Pregnant. Julia. They had talked, a long long long time ago, about having kids, someday, in a little place called Never. Julia didn't want kids. Now he'd wonder, he'd always wonder, if she just didn't want his kids......not that he liked children anyway, but it was the principle of it that hurt. She would carry the child of that murdering heartless bastard who all but held her prisoner, but she would have never carried his. And now he would never know for sure, he'd never be able to ask her, or tell her to go to hell, because Elka had already done that. The only person he could get answers from now was her. 

****

----------------- 

"How did you know?" Faye demanded. 

"Faye Valentine," he said, taking back his card, "also known as Poker Alice. Very Bad Debts. A very interesting legal file open to public viewing. Taken up with Jet Black and Spike Speigel, the one armed man and the devil-may-care kid. You need to think of a more creative alias."

Faye bristled. She liked Alice. She liked Faye for that matter. "I'm not the one being hunted."

He smiled, touching his shoulder. "Aren't you?"

She let his hand remain there just long enough to get the feel of it. Smooth, not the hand of a working man. It felt good, but she pulled away after a second. "Not anymore. Did you bother to do a background check just so you could rub up against me?"

"I haven't yet begun to rub Doll face. How about we make this business personal?"

Faye rolled her eyes. Great. Another one of those guys. "How about I shoot you in the crotch and drag you back to whoever's paying for you?"

He growled a little, a masculine, very sexual growl. "You like to be on top don't you?"

"None of your goddamned business." she said, turning to face him and making sure he could see just enough of her gun. 

He raised his hands defensively. "Ok, we can do this the easy way. Have dinner with me, then you can do whatever you want."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "All I want is your bounty."

"Dinner. Isn't that easier than, how did you put it, shooting me in the crotch and dragging me back to whoever's paying for me?"

"Easier. Less fun."

"You know," he said, "I bet I can guess your problem. They don't appreciate you. You do all the work and it still isn't enough. I know guys like that. Hell, I am a guy like that. So why don't you show them how you can bring in a bounty, nice and easy, no fuss, no muss?"

"Why would you do that?"

"I'm a gambler Ms. Valentine. I'd like to make a gamble on you."

"And what exactly is the bet?" she asked. 

"I will bet you my bounty that after dinner, you won't feel like turning me into anyone. If you do, I'll double the money you're getting. If you don't...well, if you don't, that has it's own rewards."

"You're awfully confident for someone who just got caught." she said coyly, almost meaning it this time. He was offering her a great deal, a great way to show both those sons of bitches that they needed her on the Bebop, that she pulled her own weight. 

"You didn't catch me, I caught you. So, do we have a bet?" 

  


****


	5. Chapter 4: All Along the Watchtower

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"Purple Rain"

An Ever-lengthening-Not-Quite-Bedtime-Story

By the Scary Godmother

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-This chapter was the most difficult to write, hopefully it is easier to read. I've still got a bag full of surprises for everyone, so don't think this one is the end.

****

Chapter Four: All Along the Watchtower (in which Spike loses his cool)

Faye was enjoying a slowly nursed martini while watching the roulette wheel spin the same old circle...black, red, black, red, black, red.... she couldn't bet and it was driving her crazy. That pimp-in-a-tux who had given her the information for Spike's friend had bought her the drink, but he hadn't left any casino chips compliments of the hotel. Moron, like she couldn't just get the next guy dragging his tongue on the floor to buy her a drink. But, trying to look at that platinum lining, maybe a broke girl in the casino was an easier mark for Double Seven than a rich girl in the bar. It wasn't like she'd had any luck so far. 

Still, after the first few hours, this got kind of dull. Jet was such a bastard, ordering her to do this and that like she worked for him. She had found this great clue about his poor misunderstood badly hair styled partner and he had acted like she pissed in his cornflakes or something. Fucker. Both of them, fuckers. Men. Did she ever hear 'Thank you Faye' or 'Good job Faye'....no, she heard, 'I told you to do this you stupid bitch' and 'Get it done right or don't come back'. She always busting her ass and Spike and Jet thought they could do better job. Shit. As if. 

"I'd like to see them try." she muttered.

"Try what?"

Damn. When had company gotten here? She looked over, eyes glazed with anger and impatience. A tall, dapper red-head in a khaki suit with a golden smile was sliding a small but impressive stack of chips onto number seven. Coincidence? God she hoped not. 

She plastered a smile on her face. He didn't look like the picture at all, but that was the wonder of plastic surgery and good connections. It had to be the guy, it was just too good a set-up for it not to be the guy. "Treating a girl right for a change." she said with a coo that made her want to dry heave.....screw it, she'd pour some more dumb-and-sexy charm on now and just take a long, long shower later. 

"Well, I'd like to step up to that challenge." He replied, obviously pleased.

Faye laughed and let her eyes gleam at him. "Sure you can handle it?"

The man glanced over as the casino employee collected his chips, no win this time. He tugged nervously at his collar before turning back to Faye. "Boy," he said, loosening the tie, "is it hot in here or is it just you?"

Did he really just say that? Was it supposed to be funny? She laughed again, shifting so that her shirt covered even less than it normally did. "So do you want to go someplace more remote?" she asked. That'd show Jet.. she'd bring Double Seven in all by herself, naked and handcuffed to boot. 

****

-------

Elsewhere in that casino, time hung on air while Spike waited for Elka to speak. Not even the neon liquid running up and down the sides of the jukebox seemed to move...She would tell him what had happened, she was too afraid of him right now not to, and he'd deal with kicking his own ass over that later. But now.....this second, the birdie had better start to sing, or he wouldn't warn her again. He had to know why. 

Elka was glancing left and right nervously. If he did not know better he'd think she was going to run. But that wasn't it. She pulled a cigarette out of her front pocket and lit it, taking a long drag. Spike looked on almost enviously. 

"Got any more of those?"

She shook her head. "Last one....." she offered it to him, the smart thing to do when a chain smoker had just threatened your person, "Wanna share?"

He took it from her. It was just like old times for a second or two, maybe that was her plan, to remind him. Spike would like to think that wouldn't work on him, but it might. He finished it off and snubbed the butt into the ashtray. 

"Alright, we've had our fix. Talk."

She sighed. There must be some other way to delay the inevitable, even for a minute, a second, a heartbeat more. "I don't have to tell you shit, you know. I'm dead anyway. You, him, either way." she finally responded, successfully dodging his question. 

"Him who?"

"Do you think you're the only one who would care about her dying?"

"Yes."

She shrugged. "At least you're honest."

"You haven't told me a single thing yet." Spike said very directly, apparently he was more onto her game than she realized, and he was tired of it. "Get up."

"What?"

"Stand up. We're leaving."

Elka obediently stood up. Minding the bartender's curious glances, he took her arm in what probably looked like a gentle gesture and led her out of the arched doors. He paused in the lobby, then decisively marched her towards the elevator. Jabbing the button, he waiting until the overly elaborate gold-tone doors slid open and he pulled her inside. 

Spike let go of her and pressed the button for 107. He waited, wordlessly, letting her think whatever the hell she wanted to think, until they were between the 102nd and 103rd floor, then he punched the emergency stop button, isolating them, at least for the moment. 

"Ok," he told her, releasing her arm, "We're alone now El, no one is going to overhear anything, not you telling me whatever the hell is going on and not me breaking those fingers. I don't want to hear anymore excuses. I ask a question, you answer it. There is no place for you to go. We clear?"

"Crystal green." she answered, backed up against the wall furthest from him and rubbing her arm with some surprise as the deep pink beginnings of a bruise stood out vividly on her skin. 

"Who else is coming after you?" he asked. 

"Vicious..........duh." 

He shook his head. That was slightly duh of him, yeah. "Why are you even here then?" He was beginning to feel that tide of anger pulling at him again. "Do you think I'll go easier on you than Vicious will? A bullet hurts just the same no matter who puts it in you..........You're not stupid! You're not an irrational person......you're not even syndicate, why did you do this? Why did you kill her? You're not a murderer, you're not even a decent con artist, now you're over your head in something you don't understand! You knew what I would do, you could have guessed what Vicious would do....Jesus Elka, do you love life that little?!?"

"No! I hated Julia that much!"

He slapped her, a hard and hollow thud as his open hand belted her cheek. The corner of her lip split and when she raised her eyes to him there was a trickle of blood slipping down the curve of her chin like a tear. 

"Now there's the old Simon." she said in a dull and strangely triumphant voice. "Look at you, you fucking hypocrite...you're already dead you say, just waiting till your body has the sense to lay down and die you say. She did that to you. You used to be a person, and then Julia came and Julia _went_ and that killed him. You used to be my friend, you used to have lots of friends, people who could come to you when they needed favors, people who depended on you, and then that fucking whore came along and took you away from everybody who needed you. You gave up everything! You made everyone else in your life give up everything! And that goddamned stupid heartless little cunt wasn't even worth it!!"

Things moved suddenly so quickly right then. Spike tried to control himself, a cursory and automatic gesture he dismissed. The gun was out before he even thought to each for it, and his hand was on the trigger before he even decided what to do. In the tiny metal elevator, the echo was brilliantly loud as the shots rang out...one...two....

------------

Faye was back at the roulette table again. It had been the wrong fucking guy. That's right. The wrong fucking guy. She had left hanging all over an importer/exporter named Lynyrd with a wife and two daughters back home. She had discovered all this, of course, just after she'd taken off her top. I would tell you about it, but she threatened very violent revenge on me if I ever repeated what went on. Needless to say, she was about as happy as a giraffe with a sore throat. No money, nothing to drink, nothing to bet with, and no fucking bounty....

Her communicator started beeping at her and she ignored it. The last thing she wanted to hear was Jet telling her what she had done wrong now. She knew she had screwed up this one, and as far as she was concerned Jet never needed to know about Mr. Lynyrd, importer/exporter. It was a mistake, like he never made them. At least she had been smart enough to keep all of her limbs so far. It wasn't like it was easy either, fighting for her meals. 

"Out here in the fields..." she said quietly. 

Once again, someone stood beside her just as she said her comment to no one in particular. She could tell from the scent that it was a man. Oh Goody. God, maybe for the first time in her life she so wasn't in the mood to be hit on. 

"Buy you a dri...." he began.

"Fuck off."

"But, I just thought..." 

"I said, fuck off."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach into his pocket. He set a playing card down in front of her. Seven of Diamonds. She took it and flipped it over. Seven of Hearts. It was double-sided. She gasped and looked over at the man......he looked _exactly _like his photo. 

"I just thought you were looking for me." he told her. 


	6. Chapter 5: Some Dance to Remember, Some ...

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"Purple Rain"

A Not-Quite-Bedtime Story by The Scary Godmother

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~WoW! Keep those reviews coming in, I can't believe this many people read (and liked!) my story. The feedback on every chapter from the 'regular readers' is great help too, I'm glad I haven't disappointed you guys! Every chapter I think I've written myself into a corner, or this time, my life completely goes wrong and I cant even sleep, much less write, but you guys are great, you keep me & the story going. :-) Now, after much delay...

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CHAPTER FIVE: Some Dance to Remember, Some Dance to Forget (in which we Jet's softer side and then I go on about fish for awhile)

Faye's comm was either turned off or she was ignoring it. Spike's comm was either _still_ turned off or he was _still_ ignoring it. That was mature of both of them, very. If either of them got into trouble, it wouldn't be his problem. Neither of them ever listened. 

"Jet-person! Finish the story!"

Jet shook himself awake, he was losing himself in thoughts again, or was it sleep? "You know Ed," he said, shifting the weight of that 13-year old space monkey off of his stomach and onto his leg, "for it to be a bedtime story, you have to be in bed."

"Ed doesn't want to go to bed, Ed just wants a story." she answered, hopping right back onto his stomach. "Ed wants to stay in here." 

Jet looked around. It was their dining/living/recreation/lounge room. Why anyone would want to tack 'bedroom' onto that was beyond him, but he smiled and indulged her. Kids....

"So, once upon a time, there was a beautiful...errr....Prince....ss? ...named Ed, and her royal escort dog, Ein. Ed and Ein went out riding one day and got lost. They looked and they looked but they couldn't find the way back home to their family,"

Ed let out a wide, loud yawn. Not tired eh?

"And they were all alone. Now, one day, they came across a boat in the water and snuck onboard, hoping it would take them across the wide sea back to their family. But when they got onboard, they discovered a new family there. There was a...a Captain named Jet, who was very brave and nobody listened to him, there was also a very spoiled prince named Spike and a brat princess named Faye who hated each other because they were too much alike. Princess Ed and her doggie decided that even though the place was crowded, they would stay on the boat and sail around the world, making sure the captain didn't get lonely....."

He glanced down with one eye, doing his best not to move at all. Ed was sound asleep on his lap. Very, very carefully, he held out his arms and stood up, cradling her while her head flopped around. She was a cute kid, even if she did have those weird spots on her cheeks. He managed to get her to her room with a fairly smooth ride, even with Ein nipping around his ankles. He laid her down on the bunk and automatically, her legs and arms flung themselves wide and for a second he thought she was going to turn a somersault in her sleep. But she stayed put. 

"That's not exactly how it happened," he whispered, "but it'll do. Night kid."

****

-----------------

An architecturally synthesized 'night' was falling on Venus as well while Faye sat in the Fortunate Son Lounge sipping a Pina Colada (hell, she'd never had one before, why not try it?) and waiting for her broiled Venus Halibut with long-grain rice and sautéed corn. Obviously, she hadn't ordered for herself. She wanted the steak. Seven was getting the steak. Prick. So far, his bid to get out of this by charming her wasn't going well. 

Double Seven was sitting across from her and when the food finally arrived, he actually licked his lips. He must be almost as hungry as she was, almost. She supposed it must be hard, when the money finally came close to running out and the feds were on your back and meals were more often left-overs or cheap and discrete room service, while all the while you had to keep up appearances, look like you were eating steak and Halibut every night. Like she didn't know. She was a gambler too. 

She picked up her fork and stabbed the white mass in front of her. "What did you say this was again?"

"Halibut, it's fish."

She took a taste skeptically while examining the chunk still attached to her cutlery. "Are you sure?" 

He cut a corner slice off of his steak, thick and juicy and bite-size. Faye's eyes went wide as she swallowed her white-looking, white-tasting fish. Steeeaaakkkk. She almost scooted back in pure surprise when he held out his knife to her with the piece still dangling scrumptiously. "Would you like it?" he asked, holding the knife closer to her lips. 

Faye, feeling a little bit pissed off at the idea she was performing like a dolphin in one of those water shows but still eternally gratefully and unwaveringly tempted, leaned forward and snatched the meat with her lips. God. It really did taste as good as it looked.

Seven took his knife back and cut a little for himself, seeming to savor it as much. 

"The way I figure it," he said after he swallowed, "you get the fish, I get the steak, and we share. That way, You can taste mine and I can taste yours....you don't mind if I have a little taste, do you Faye?" 

He winked at her, winked! This guy either didn't hear the word 'no' very often or he had balls the size of asteroids. Looking at those big baby blues and just-messy-enough-to-be-sexy-but-lets-not-go-overboard-like-Spike hair, Faye would put her money on both. She sipped her drink. She needed a drink. A man trying to get into your pants was one fucking thing, literally, but a man offering you steak while trying to get into your pants was something else entirely. 

"You're not talking about just the fish, are you?" she said squinting. 

He laughed, it sounded rich and red-blooded and very masculine. "I'm talking about just the fish if you want me to be talking about just the fish. But remember, we have a bet and I intend to win, no matter what...." He looked her up and down, taking a long appreciative glance at her legs, "lengths I have to go to."

"You're so sure I'm going to just fall all over you? What an ego."

He licked his lips again, this time definitely not thinking about food, before picking up the knife again. "Come on, in the morning, at least you can say you tried a great steak."

-------------------------------------------------

_________________________________

By the time the elevator finally opened it's doors, there was a long line of customers milling about the lobby and swearing about shoddy lifts, things falling apart, and the ever generic 'thats how they get you's'. Immediately, a high-roller strode forward, ignoring that there was a line or three old men ahead of him, who had taken seats on the bench next to the elevator and seemed to be talking about building the casino, back in the good old days. 

He took two steps inside the chamber and then took them backwards at warp speed. Blocking the view of his 'lady friend' Sheila (50 woo longs for an hour, double if you want head), he took one more sobering look at the still tacky blood on the walls and floor before backing off entirely. 

"I'll get the next one." he said. 

Spike and Elka, who hadn't bothered to clean up after themselves, were busily raiding the maid trolley in one of the thousand cheesily decorated corridors of the hotel above the main casino floor. After Elka was kind enough to lift the main priority, cigarettes, off the first fat cat who walked by them and happened to bump into her small, unthreatening frame, and now it was time to deal with priority two: first aid. Both of them had hand towels on their shoulders. Spike was holding his on, Elka has fastened hers more tourniquet style with her belt so she could hold another small terry cloth up to her face. 

Was he sorry he had hit her? No. Well, kind of. Yes. He was sorry, but she deserved it, even if it was worse than shooting her. Spike supposed he wasn't having nearly as much fun reaping his revenge as Vicious would, but that thought alone made him kind of shudder. Once, a long long time ago, before this life began, he had seen the dark side of Vicious. He hadn't thought about it in a long, long time. Vicious had been his partner, his best friend, his brother, but when Spike had first met him.......

_It wasn't the first job they did together, or even the second. Spike already had a long sheet, he had seen the devil on his shoulder and made a deal with it. But Spike had never......he had never loved it, it was great, all the women wanting you so much you didn't have to bother to learn or remember their names having time to train, being praised for the way you hit, the style you put into a punch, having the skill and name of the Red Dragon behind you, having a reputation to the point that you didn't even have to threaten people anymore, they saw you coming and ran, he even liked the violence, hell, lets be honest, he loved the violence, the righteous hunt, the victory......._

But he had never loved the killing. Vicious lapped at it like mother's milk. 

It was maybe their fourth kill, someone who wouldn't pay his debts. They had walked straight up the door of his store, some little new age shop that smelled like incense and bat shit. Vicious went in first, Spike bolted the door behind them and pulled the shade down. 'Closed' the letters painted on it said. 

"Mr. Gao," Vicious said, picking up a small crystal off the counter and setting it down, not quite being menacing yet.....but coming close, "We have been good to you, haven't we? We keep your store safe, we take care of you. Isn't this true?"

The man had nodded nervously. "Ver--ve--very true."

"Then why is it...." Vicious began, pulling back his jacket to reveal the gleam of his katana, "you feel you don't owe us anything?"

The man this time said nothing, so Vicious continued, encouraging Spike to come closer, watch, learn, participate. 

"Do you think we take care of you because we like you? We do not. Do you think we take care of you because we think you're a good business man? We do not. Mr. Gao, since you have stopped paying us your debt, other stores have stopped, other little Mr. Gaos have stopped. Do you think you owe us so little that you take back not only what you promise, but other people's promises as well?"

Vicious shot him, the kneecaps. The old shopkeeper fell to the floor. Spike would have done the same, disable him first. But Spike knew there was a lot more coming. They had been told to make an example out of this man. 

"Mr. Gao," asked Vicious, strolling around the counter slowly and kneeling in front on the man, "if you were me, what would you think you deserved?"

Spike couldn't remember exactly what came next, whether the man had lost his eyes or his tongue first, or if he had still been screaming when Vicious took his heart out with the katana. At the time, he had been a little sick from it. Mr. Gao had died slow, hours slow, and long before that, he had wished he would die. Spike couldn't understand how anyone could deserve to die like that, why not just a bullet in the head? He didn't see why they had to suffer first. But Vicious.....the part Vicious had told him he loved most was when they begged for their lives. He said it was music. Killing was an art to him, it wasn't about the discipline, or the defense, or the duty. He just loved the kill. 

Spike hadn't understood, but then again, he'd never been in love back then. Vicious had. Maybe it took a broken heart, or the fear of losing your entire world, when your entire world was one person, to inspire the passion Vicious had for death. Spike hadn't understood then, he understood now, but he wasn't like him. Elka had chosen wisely.

Elka, Elka, was he going to kill her? He'd do it quickly if he did, and.....he would close his eyes. He'd give her that respect, he wouldn't watch. If he did decide that was what she deserved. He looked over at her. He was about to say, he wasn't quite sure, something along the lines of reassurance. Something like, 'I'll make it quick, painless.' Or maybe he was going to ask why again, because he still wasn't sure he understood it all. Julia, pregnant. That hair, like spun gold. Did she quit smoking, for the baby? Did she go quick, painless? Yeah, that was what he would ask her, if it was painless. Like the first time you died was ever painless. 

But he did not get a chance. He looked up at her and then, they felt something. There was a thick and heavy silence, the weight of the past. The air smelled like danger, like blood in the water. No one needed to say it, because they both knew. No matter how elusive Elka was, or how far she had run, Vicious was close. In the casino already maybe. He was coming for her. 


	7. Chapter 6: When the Jazzman Testifies

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Purple Rain - a not-quite-bedtime-story by The Scary Godmother.

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This story is a long time coming, isn't it? The language is a lot stronger in this chapter, but it is justified. I am sorry to say though, that I think we're in the last 12 minutes of our 30-minute Bebop session. The end cometh in the next few chapters, folks. 

****

Chapter 6: When the Jazz Man Testifies (in which a funny sense of Deja Vu is felt by all)

Faye found herself in the first few minutes of waking, the part where your mind and body haven't quite put themselves back together again. She lay flat on her back and tried to remember exactly what was going on. 

Blink. "Where I am?" she asked the dark room softly. Not surprisingly, no answer. 

Blink. "What happened?" 

She rubbed her forehead and sat up, waving one arm wildly in hope that it would run into a lamp or a light switch or something along those lines. Her head was pounding and she struggled to keep herself upright. Had she drunk that much? She found something, rectangular. The Gideon Bible, staple of any hotel room. She found something cold, metal, oily. Her gun. That wasn't a good sign. She found a pole. Moving her arm up it, she felt the tassel and tugged. Hallelujah, there was light. 

_Alright, _Faye thought to herself, _Fact One, this is indeed a hotel room. It didn't take a genius to figure out how I ended up there either. Fact Two, I'm alone. That's kind of insulting, isn't it? Fact Three, I'm naked. Good thing the air conditioning isn't on. Fact Four, I seem to be handcuffed. _

Wait a minute!

Faye tugged at her right wrist again. Yep, handcuffed to the headboard. Now, it wasn't too hard to figure out how that happened either. What was hard to figure out was how she could have been so stupid! This wasn't even the first time something like this had happened! Double Seven must have gotten her drunk, drunk!, and then taken her up to his room like some giddy prom date and.....and...

"He left me here!" she yelled angrily, tugging at her wrist. "He used me! He tricked me! And he STILL GOT AWAY! That prick! That asshole! Mother-FUCKING mother-fucker!!"

Faye screamed until she was hoarse. Knowing her, she probably had screamed a lot more when Double Seven was still here, so she doubted anyone was going to notice. Dammit! Dammit Dammit! Even when she did get out of this, what was she going to tell Jet and Spike? Sorry guys, he bought me dinner? Oh that would be just perfect. 

"You really screwed this up, Faye." she told herself, feeling around the bed and night table for anything that might serve as a lock pick. She tried to think back, what had she done the last time some jerk had left her handcuffed to a bed? Well, Gren had left her handcuffed _in _a bed, that was pretty close. How had she gotten out of that?

Jet! Jet would come and.......would come and see that she had lost their money and their bounty and completely fucked up. He would give her that look. He would probably leave her here. If it was Faye in his shoes, she would leave herself here. No, she couldn't call Jet. He'd just be so........disappointed in her. Capable, she was supposed to be fucking capable. 

"So I'll just have to take care of this myself." she said to the empty room. 

------------------------------------------

_____________________________

"Did you just......."

He raised his fingers up to his lips. Shhhhh, he motioned, quieter. He listened for a moment. He didn't hear Vicious coming, but then again, he doubted that anyone ever heard Vicious coming until it was too late. Had to think, Had to think, Had to think. He had to buy time. Vicious robbed him of his future, his life, he was for damned sure not going to rob him of his revenge for Julia until he was absolutely certain he did not want it. That meant keeping Elka, old friend, old ally, alive, even if he was only keeping her alive until he made up his mind whether or not she deserved to die, yes, she did, and what he could do to kill her that would be more painful than living. But it was Elka. That was like Jet saying he'd killed Julia, they were his friends, they saw him from the inside. They lived, because he couldn't anymore. How could he kill someone that was supposed to carry on when he was gone...?

Now, not the time. He plucked one of their freshly purloined cigarettes out of Elka's pocket and spoke softly to her, keeping his face close enough to hers that the scent of the blood seeping from her shoulder rose to his nose like a pungent, pulpy perfume. "Do you have a ship?" he said, softly. Don't let anyone hear. 

She nodded. 

"Where?"

"Stalag 17." 

"I am in 18. We are going to walk, real slow, real calm, down to the garage. You're going to get your ship. I'm going to get mine. I'm taking you up, you understand?"

She nodded again. Then, he took her, put one arm around her so her shoulder, wrapped in white linen and soaked in bright red, was hidden from the casual observer by his jacket. As for his own shoulder, why do you think he wore a dark blue suit instead of a white one? It tended to come in handy in situations like this. 

They began to walk towards the unsullied set of elevators at the opposite end of the hallway. Each step was a painful execution in will power. They knew, every door they passed, Vicious could be behind it. Every time they passed a window, that could be the end. It took them about 3 minutes to reach the elevator, but those three minutes were an eternity. He jabbed at the button and stood to one side of the door, letting Elka take the other side, guns out, just in case. The chamber opened with a small musical jangle, and when no bullets, henchmen, or archvillians poured out, he declared it safe and poked his head around the corner into the elevator itself. 

"All Clear." he said, putting the gun away and getting in. 

Elka stood in the entrance, hesitating. 

"El, we need to go." And, as if he could not stress the importance of this enough, he added, "**_Now_**." 

"Fuck no." she said. "I am not getting in that coffin."

Spike looked shocked. He looked shocked once a century at the most. Had he just reasoned himself into not shooting her point blank when he had the chance only for her to get snippy about his choice in transportation? 

"We rode up here in an elevator!' he said in an annoyed whisper. 

"You can cut the cables to an elevator, a quick fall, no one knows how it happened. You can jam an elevator in the shaft for 5 or 6 hours, a slow death, suffocation, no one knows how it happened. Some moron," she went on, "could decide to _shoot_ his _gun off_ and short the wiring, blow out the lights or command panel or just accidentally ricochette a hot lead kiss right into your he....."

He grabbed her arm, the wounded one, and she yelped in pain as Spike yanked her inside the elevator and pressed the button for the Hangar floor. They really did not have time. 

Elka cast resentful gazes at him the whole trip down. They were facing a life and death situation, she had murdered the woman he had once given his entire soul to, and here she was, pouting over what Spike saw as the quickest method of shutting her the hell up and getting moving. 

"Feel lucky," Spike told her, shuffling his feet, "you didn't pick the other side of Venus. Do you know what it is like over there?"

"Nope." Elka said, looking at the wall opposite Spike's face, then looking at the ceiling, then looking at the wall above his head. Subtlety had never been her gift. 

"Barren." he said, even though she hadn't technically asked, "Like Earth." 

"Really?" she answered, trying desperately not to sound interested and not quite succeeding. 

"Yep." Spike said, a small smile. She had gotten blood all over his shirt, the way he held her when they walked down the hall....well, she had gotten blood all over the part that wasn't already bloody. He would liked to have said he didn't mind, but he wasn't sure how it would sound, especially coming from a man still figuring out whether or not to end her life. He made no mistake about the fact that she might die, and that she might die at his hands, but if she did, he knew he would miss her. He didn't love her, he loved Julia. She wasn't a compatriot, not like Jet was. But she had the honor of knowing all his secrets. Elka standing bleeding and trying not to smile at any of his jokes, was a piece of everything that he had run away from, and everything he was sorry he left behind when he did. So, no, he didn't mind if she ruined his shirt. 

------------------------

_________________

_"Desperado....why don't you come to your senses? You've been out riding fences, for so long now.....You're a hard one, but I know that you got......"_

**....._Bleeng-bick_....**

When the comm on the table signaled an incoming transmission, Jet leaped up from his crouched position so quickly that his head nearly hit the girder above him. Bonsai trees, he told himself to keep the embarrassment from being as obvious as his mechanical limb, enjoyed being sung to. It helped them to grow. Lots of gardeners did it. It was a perfectly rational, normal, masculine thing to do. 

When he felt a little bit more secure in his manhood, he turned the screen on. "Spike," he said, "Is it time for dinner already?"

Spike didn't smile. He didn't laugh. He wasn't even smoking (not that he was supposed to when he was flying but that never stopped him before). "What is it?" Jet asked, putting his good arm on the wall and bracing himself for bad news, or another large bill from a city Spike destroyed in pursuit of the real criminals. 

"I'm bringing someone aboard." 

Jet checked to make sure he hadn't hit his head after all. No, he was fine. So Spike must have hit his head. Jet had the feeling he was in for a long, long talk with the man, and they would keep talking until he learned exactly what the hell was going on. "Two cleared for landing." he said, "See you in the control room." 

Jet made his way to the cockpit of the ship, or, what would normally be the cockpit in a normal ship. He couldn't remember the last time Spike had brought anybody home to meet the family. It must be this girl Faye ran into. He hoped she still had their money. 


End file.
